Stuck (on here)

Acordar às quatro horas da manhã, depois de um sonho a ver com quentão e com um hotel ao Sul, enfiada no meu sofá de dois lugares e tendo algumas sete rosas escondidas em minha mochila, foi algo, sem dúvidas, estranho… Tão estranho que não tenho muito o que dizer hoje…
E tão estranho que merece algo à altura.
Então, por que não um texto… Em inglês?
Ainda sem um nome decente, The man and the Ship.

 

I’m like a castaway man, with miles and miles of cold and salt water surrounding me and my insanity, with a deep and ocean breeze distancing and keeping me from reality.

I don’t know what I did to end up here… I’m not in an island, I’m in an abandoned ship. Someone, at someday days ago, found me lying alone on an alley, my feet all nude, my body all chill, my mind… All lost: every single thing, up that time, to me, was lost. And, then, this gentle unknown person took me to this… ship…

He, or she, left me a little food and a bottle of mineral water; the bottle I kept here, the food I’ve already eaten. But, instead these, that person left nothing more…

Since that day I’ve not moved from here: I was abandoned in a lost, godforsaken ship, and, so, this ship and I have pretty much in common. Did someone feel my absence? Did my parents, my relatives, my friends or, even, my fiancé look for me? I don’t think so, would hardly think so… And, as this, no one missed driving this ship.

“Vessel, oh, my sad vessel!”. We talk to each other; I say no sense words, like a swan reciting an old, sacred poem; it answers me, with its watery cries and brass grunts… This ship seems to have wrecked here several months ago, and I seem to be his only colleague since then, and for one week now.

The food that stranger left to me I ate at the same day, and, now, seven days later, I’m starving. Someone would say that I should leave here, and go searching for my family before I die on the sea coldness… But I… But that several day I felt asleep on the alley…

That day, I was winding home when I decided to seat down on an alley to simply write… And, now, I declaim to the Ship the words I wrote…: “Don’t know why I’m rushin’ to head home, when there’s absolutely no thing and no one waitin’ for me to return. Maybe I am doin’ that ‘cause I am just frustrated for, either, havin’ no reason to stay here, out on the street with my friends.

“I’m confused, like knocked out, and simply want to lie down… Softly, calmly, ‘downly’… And what after that, instead sleepin’, am I hopin’ for? Do I have, for sure, any reason for bein’ in any place?…

“I got stuck here, on the halfway from my strange bunch of colleagues to the bus stop. Havin’ so many doubts, and hardly something to believe in… On what, on who sould, do I trust? I got stuck, I got no why then.”.